


I Don't Do Shorts

by LeoArcana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean's bowlegs, Episode: s04e13 After School Special, dean doesn't do shorts, past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoArcana/pseuds/LeoArcana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I don’t do shorts.”</i><br/>He meant it.  He didn’t do shorts, he hated them.  Yet, here he was, having to put on a pair of shorts as part of a gym teacher’s uniform because apparently the school required even the gym teacher to wear shorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Do Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> based on [my own tumblr prompt](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com/post/66410707740/headcanon-that-dean-doesnt-do-shorts-because) as to why Dean doesn't do shorts

“ _I don’t do shorts.”_

He meant it.  He didn’t do shorts, he hated them.  Yet, here he was, having to put on a pair of shorts as part of a gym teacher’s uniform because apparently the school required even the gym teacher to wear shorts.  They couldn’t even be merciful either.  Mercy would be normal, somewhat loose gym shorts.  Not these tight red nightmares.

Dean sighed and scowled at the mirror, his eyes trailing down his reflection.  He hated shorts for a reason; they made his bowed-legs more obvious. 

It hadn’t been a big deal when he was little, they weren’t nearly as bowed and most people probably figured they’d straighten out as he grew up.  They’d been wrong.  Every once in a while, he’d catch someone doing a double-take at him.  That much he didn’t mind, he knew bowlegs weren’t common and they were becoming more noticeable as he grew up. 

But it wasn’t until junior high that things started to escalate, mostly because of gym class, actually.  He’d been required to wear shorts for gym then too.  He caught a couple people staring at his legs, whispering to each other, giggling; some even so bold as to point at him when they thought he wasn’t looking.  He did his best to ignore those kids, but of course the looks, the whispers, the giggling, all of it went beyond gym class.  Kids in the hallways started to take notice and do the same; he couldn’t ignore every kid in the junior high.  Dean had been relieved, a couple months later, when John said they were moving on to another state for a hunt.

Dean hoped that this junior high was better.  He was wrong.  If anything, this one was worse.  The looks didn’t disappear when he met them.  The whispers got louder; kids teased him directly to his face.  The giggles turned to laughter when he had to run in gym.  Dean would grumble inwardly and keep his eyes on the ground, only looking up to glare at someone.  Once again, he was relieved when John said they were moving.

Dean was done with junior high and moving onto high school now.  Part of him hoped that the teasing would let up; this was high school, kids were more mature, right?  He was wrong; again.  He tried to substitute gym class with another elective, but gym was required.  He tried to get away wearing sweat pants; he got written up for dress code violation.  When they ran laps, he tried to stay behind the group so they couldn’t see and wouldn’t laugh; he got yelled at for not hustling.  Damn gym teachers knowing he could do better.  When they were waiting for instruction from the gym teacher, he’d either sit down or stand with his feet at least shoulder width apart; his legs looked a little less bowed when he stood that way. 

He did everything he could to hide his bowlegs without getting called out by a teacher.  Loose jeans, sitting away from other kids, avoiding getting called to the front of the class for something… 

No matter what he did, it seemed like fate was bent on showing off his bowlegs for kids to make fun of.  The next school was worse.  It wasn’t just light teasing anymore.  Now, there were a handful of guys that decided to start pinning causes to his bowlegs.  A few reasons, he could just shrug off.  Like spending too much time riding a horse.  Somehow, they’d found out he was from Kansas and immediately associated it with riding horses all the time.  But other ones were more difficult to brush off.  Like saying his legs were bowed because they were always wrapped around some guy pounding him.

He broke the nose of the kid that said that. 

And he was suspended for three days, not that he minded it though.  It was three days of no teasing or bullying.  When he came back from suspension, one of the kids asked him about his bowlegs.  He was suspicious, of course, because the kid spoke without malice; almost like he was genuinely curious.  As soon as the kid asked if he ever tried to correct them, another kid, the one who’s nose he’d broken, snuck up behind him and synched a belt around his knees.  He immediately lost his balance and tried to fight against the burning embarrassment on his face as the two kids laughed while he fumbled with the belt.

Once freed, he was on his feet again.  With the belt wrapped around his hand now, he fractured the jaw of the kid with the broken nose and punched the other one the stomach hard enough to knock his breath out.

He was expelled.  Perfect.  It was time to move on anyway.

The next high school was the last.  Luckily, he didn’t have to take gym at this school; he could just wear loose jeans all the time.  No shorts.  Unfortunately, at this point, his legs were so bowed they were barely hidden by the jeans.  But Dean wasn’t putting up with anymore crap from the other students.  He snapped and glared at anyone who even so much as glanced at his legs.  He didn’t care if they thought he was mean, ill-tempered or anything like that.  He’d rather have them focused on that then his bowlegs.  Everything was going fairly well at this school up until one kick who thought he was the coolest thing since ice decided to start cracking jokes at Dean.  It went on for about one or two days, then Dean fixed it.

But immediately after putting the kid in his place, as Dean said, he went straight to the principal’s office and told the principal he was dropping out.  The principal tried to talk him into the finishing high school, but he was dead set on it.  When the principal gave up and signed him out of the school, he walked out of the office just as another student came in and told her what Dean had done to the guy that had made one too many jokes at him.  Dean smirked to himself as the principal called an ambulance and the kid was taken to the hospital.  Broken nose, broken arm, fractured ribs, dislocated jaw, he later found out.

He didn’t care though; no more school, no more bullying.  John was a little upset, but quickly moved them on before the kid’s family could come after them and sue them.  Not that they’d get anything, really.

As the years went on, Dean started feeling better.  John and Sam never made any remark about his bowlegs.  People, not little shit-head students, only very rarely glanced at him on the streets.  He was feeling better. 

Then came that case with the wendigo after John had gone missing.  The girl hadn’t noticed his bowlegs, or at least, he didn’t think she did.  But she’d said something about wearing shorts being better for a hike like that and something along the lines of calling him an idiot for not packing provisions.  He promptly informed her that he didn’t do shorts and smugly held up a bag of M&M’s as proof of his provisions.  She just stared after him and he turned on his heel and continued down the trail, snacking on the M&M’s.

A couple more years of nothing, and now here he was.  Being forced to wear these red shorts that immediately brought back every single memory of every time he was ever teased or bullied.  It was made worse by the fact this was one of the schools he’d been teased at.  Dean grimaced and headed out into the gym, eyeing the group of students.  He blew the whistle to get their attention as he grabbed up a bag of dodge balls and brought it over.  The students got into a line and stood waiting for instruction.  He dropped the bag, a couple balls rolling out, and walked along the line of students.

“Today, you will have the honor of playing one of the greatest games ever invented,” Dean said, “A game of skill and agility and cunning.  A game with one simple rule…”

Dean bent over and picked up one of the balls.

“Dodge.”

He turned and hurled the ball at the kid on the end of the line, hitting him hard in the lower stomach.  The kid doubled over and staggered back.  Dean flinched and took a half step back. 

“Sorry,” he stated.

How hard was it to dodge?  That kid deserved it anyway, he was pretty sure he’d caught him looking at his bowlegs and snickering to himself.  Dean turned and walked back up the line of students.

“Uh, substitute Coach Roth?”

“Yes?”

“Miss Boudrole never let us play dodgeball.”

“Well, Miss B’s in Massachusetts getting married, so we’re playing,” Dean smirked.

“She says it’s dangerou—“

Dean cut him off with the sharp blow of his whistle.

“Take a lap!” Dean growled.

“But—“

Another sharp whistle and the kid started running.  Dean said _a_ lap, but he was sure he’d caught that kid glancing at his bowlegs too.  He could keep running the whole class period then.  He shook it off when he saw Sam coming through the gym doors.  Dean snatched up the bag of dodgeballs and dumped them out, telling the kids to, “Go nuts.”


End file.
